


A Bitter Spot in Sweet Waters

by Stormcloudy



Series: The Stranded Sweetwater [1]
Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Psychological Horror, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:34:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24378817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stormcloudy/pseuds/Stormcloudy
Summary: With life going well for Nick and Judy, a mysterious facility in the rivers of the Rainforest District offers strange and hard to swallow glimpses into Wilde's past, his outlook on life and the situations that caused him to behave as pessimistically as he did. Set partially post-canon and partially pre-canon, the facility brings answers, questions and obstacles our intrepid duo must face.
Relationships: Judy Hopps & Nick Wilde, Judy Hopps/Nick Wilde
Series: The Stranded Sweetwater [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1760314
Comments: 5
Kudos: 21





	1. A Bitter Spot in Sweet Waters

**Author's Note:**

> Nick and Judy hang out, noticing something strange in the river beyond her apartment. Neither knowing anything more about the mysterious structure upsets Nick, but he knows everybody and everything in Zootopia, right?

“Hey Hopps, you planning on blowing up the police station?” This being Nick Wilde, there were even more far fetched things likely to come out of his mouth before lunch.

“Nick, what are you talking about?” How the fox could walk such a fine line of unprofessionalism and work ethic always baffled Judy Hopps.

“Found your grocery list.” He sang, waving a crumpled sticky note at her. “Seriously, you have an iCarrot. Just use the sticky note app.”

Judy snatched the offered piece of paper, stuffing it into a pouch on her duty belt. “I hate the app. I can’t ever find anything. Ironically….” Accepting the proffered coffee as well, she huffed as from seemingly yet a third hand he refilled both of their inboxes.

Judy’s old-timey ways were nothing new. But he loved getting a rise out of her. “What do you need anhydrous ammonia for? Got a bomb in mind? I’m a cop you know.”

“No! you know I kept up all my credentials from Bunnyburrow. Even with the shipping and red tape in the city it’s still cheaper to buy fertilizer from the co-op back home. Plus, all the best seed companies are in the Tri-Burrows!”

“That’s all very interesting, Fluff, but you still live in an apartment complex. And unless you’re planning on going  _ Little Hopps of Horrors _ on us with those violets of yours…?”

“And if you would quit acting like you’re too cool to leave downtown you would know what I need fertilizer for.” Their little repartee, and their break at an end both mammals dug back into the grind of paperwork. “What time was it when that beaver almost backed into our car yesterday? I really don’t want to go pull the footage.”

“Sixteen twenty-one, if you please Carrots. Betcha can’t guess where he was a minute earlier!” Groaning melodramatically, Judy still entered the time. It was going to be a long day.

True enough, Nick’s absurd statements continued on through the day. And while it was torturous, it certainly made the time fly. A week of patrol logs corroborated, signed off on by their shift supervisor and on the desk by 6PM Friday evening all sounded neat and tidy in theory, but Monday’s scrupulously noted details turned into Wednesday’s “Yeah but what  _ species _ was Buttface?” Turned into Thursday’s… well… jokes at potheads’ expense used to ground their professional narratives together.

Judy shuddered to think of what other teams must file, for as often as her and Nick’s own paperwork was commended. As it stood, they were a little antsy to leave. Nick’s philosophy was that he wasn’t paid hourly, and Judy just wanted to get back to her hobbies. Not that the dumb fox ever asked about them.

“You wanna see what I need fertilizer for?” Judy asked as they breezed out of the building at a cool five o’ clock. “It’s literally the same commute time as where you live, you know. None of that ‘it’s too far’ kraut.”

“For a rabbit that ran as far from the farm as possible, you sound awfully eager to get back to it.”

Deflating slightly, she simply said, “Just stop being such a jerk without knowing what you’re laughing at, and come hang out for a while.”

Until recently, guilt trips had been utterly ineffectual on him. But, he supposed until recently he was in the muddy waters of the not-quite-legal. “Okay, okay. Sorry. Jeez.” He may have been riding her a little hard about it today, but the whole idea of wanting to tie herself down to the same things she left behind seemed a little crazy to him. She had moved to Ficus Grove  _ six weeks ago _ though, and he had been avoiding heading out to see her new place as hard as possible.

They took the underground to the edge of downtown proper, and after a walk that he was loath to admit was beautiful, they arrived at Judy’s building. One of the luxuries of having moved off the downtown islands was obviously space. There was a greenspace running out front of the building’s Y shaped wings. The Ficus trees stood out among the countless others which earned the district its name. Indeed they stood out from the rest of the landscape, so glutted with miniscule fruits and brilliantly hued birds.   
  
The complex itself was unremarkable for this area, trying to evoke some Mekongese ideal. Bright white, somewhere between art deco in its desire and cost effective in its construction, it managed an awkward sort of beauty. It was also, seemingly the very last high rise allowed before some arbitrary cutoff into the more niche habitats, leaving mammals on the rainforest side an uninterrupted view all the way to The Canopy.

Nick’s shoulders slumped as he finished taking in the sight. He should have learned his lesson the very first time, with the tax hustle. Put Hopps in a box and she’ll break the box. Even as he was preparing his longform apology, she grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him toward the entrance.   
  
The lobby was nice. Open and with plenty of air, seating and common space. Seemingly content to let him take in the place, they strolled to the elevator bank. Yet another surprise. Nick had never really seen Judy use an elevator. As she punched the top floor button with a little leap, Nick understood the need for the lift. He didn’t quite understand how Judy could afford the view, but figured he could at least take it all in before he made a fool of himself and got kicked out.

Finally entering Judy’s space, Nick could see that while dirt and plants may be in her blood, she was as urban as the Zootopia native himself. On nearly every flat surface was a planter varying from terra cotta and dirt to glass filled with multicolored water jewels. The balcony, just big enough to step out onto was crowded with herbs, peppers, flowers and succulents. The suite was furnished sparsely, eclectically and all oversized for the rabbit. Nick felt like he had walked into some photoshoot for a  _ Better Dens and Pastures _ catalog.

The crash of velcro and the clatter of ballistic plate hitting the floor snapped him out of his sudden introspection. Bending over to collect the protective device, and tugging her duty belt free she tossed both with practiced ease across a series of hooks fixed to the wall. It hardly suited the room, but it held weight.

“You can drop your gear wherever.” Judy suggested, throwing herself across her couch. “Come sit.”

Pointedly  _ not  _ making a joke about the last time he had so drunkenly undone his belt buckle, he draped his belongings beside Judy’s. The cocked eyebrow and smug look on her face made him feel chastened, somehow. He sat, awareness growing by the moment what a jerk he had been. “Crow eaten.” Nick confirmed a bit glumly.

Levering her balance, she swatted Nick with a weightless leg, insisting, “Sit. Nick. It’s my house. You can get hair on the upholstery.” Even saying so, she nudged him until he complied. As soon as he relaxed -- though to Judy’s eyes he still looked like he was on death row -- she hopped up and headed for the kitchen, depositing her phone on a charge pad as she went.

“So, not quite like Bunnyburrow, huh?” Judy asked, leading the conversation as she rummaged through her fridge.

“It’s really something, Fluff. Seriously, this is impressive. You should twist my arm more often.” Breaking his own silence put the fox more at ease, finally flopping back wearily.

“Oh, ha ha.” With a total absence of humor, she placed a drink in Nick’s hand. Bright orange, slightly fizzy and totally opaque, he was suspicious of the concoction. “Here. Part of the fun of having space.”

“What is it? You know, my mother told me to always buy my own drinks. Who knows what kind of mammal may want to take advantage… of… me.” He trailed off when Judy’s foot started tapping. He took a generous sip and grimaced in betrayal. “Hopps. I  _ loathe _ papaya. You know that.”   
  
Of course she knew it, he was so melodramatic about his disgust over the fruit half the precinct probably knew. “Just one more sip, I know you’re not a fan. But aside from that it’s good, right?”

He acceded and gulped down another mouthful, making less of a face. “It’s… pretty good actually, but what is this stuff? You know, you stand there watching me like that I’ll get suspicious.”

“It’s ‘The Hopps Family Elixir for Good Vitality and Health!’” Judy crowed.

Nick couldn’t help himself as he burst into chittery snickering. “It’s  _ what? _ Carrots, you never told me you were a secret witch!” Even as he continued to laugh, Judy just shook her head with that long-suffering expression she so commonly wore when Nick was enjoying himself. Drag him kicking and screaming -- or pouting and sulking like tonight -- out of his comfort zone and good things came of it. He really should have learned his lesson with the ZPD thing.

“It’s just kombucha with fruit, chiles and herbs.” She dismissed. “I mean, it’s a great kick in the morning but it’s nothing special…. If you like it, I can make you a batch with blueberries in it.” Though Nick was unsure why he deserved such consideration, he was wise enough not to turn her down.

“Sure, Fluff. Whatever you say. So what’s with the industrial supplies? A hundred pounds of that stuff’ll last you like a million years, right?” And while he started out smarmy, his expression grew curious until he was staring cross eyed at the tip of his muzzle. “What… uh… kind of chiles?”

“Just jalapenos, and not a lot. And sure, I may individually only go through a few grains of fertilizer here and there but I’m  _ sort of  _ the head of shipping and receiving for the agricultural department of the Chrysanthemum Heights Condominiums.” Stretching idly, Judy dropped that bombshell as casually as naming the color of the sky.

“What?”   
  
“Well, you know that lady I do yoga with, the goat? She was complaining a while ago about how bad the groundskeeping was around here. And then Bucky and Pronk were going through that rough patch and never shut up. So I came by, knowing I couldn’t afford the place. Ends up, they were starting to get citations from the district for letting the greenspaces rot. I had a little chat with the groundskeeper and one thing led to another. So, the place is solvent now and I get a huge discount on a room with a view as long as I keep the cheap fertilizer rolling in.”

“ _ Carrots! _ ” Nick gasped, “That’s a  _ side hustle! _ ” Though his tone was admonishing, the gleam in his eyes was unmistakable.

“ ‘S a good one, too. I’ve got roof access, even. Want to see?”

“It’s not a public space?”   
  
“It’s… complicated.” Judy answered evasively.

“How?”

“Come see?”

“Got anything stronger than kombucha?” Standing, Nick followed Judy to the kitchen, taking in the crazy room divider that was a burgeoning spider plant.

“One of my brothers sent me a jug of applejack but it’s honestly pretty gross.”

“Does it have magic powers?”

“Sure, the magic power to make you fall on the floor.” So saying, Judy pulled a baled bottle from under her sink and made for the front door. Beckoning Nick, they made for the stairway.   
  
On either side of the doorway to the stairwell were small basins of potpourri. Judy unceremoniously grabbed a pinch and held her palm to her face. Muted and nasally she suggested, “Follow my lead.”   
  
Trusting his partner he did so, and followed her upstairs and onto the roof with his hand clamped over his mouth and nose. Cursing in half a dozen different languages Nick spat, “ _ THAT  _ is why you pay so little rent! Is your apartment even plumbed with sewer?”

“It’s the non potable fire suppression water. There’s a leak somewhere. But it’s not my job to fix it. Anyway, quit being such a baby and look.” Judy threw the scented debris into a bucket near the door, and gestured with her arm. Like many roofs in Zootopia, this one was painted in reflective white paint. The dusky sunlight was gentle enough the surface was bearable to view.

On this roof were yet more planters, some large enough Nick couldn’t wrap his arms around. Young shrubs, trellises of vines and flowers, a selection of vegetables and even a tree bearing the hated papaya fruit. Something about the permanence of trees, of putting down roots, set off a new bout of uneasy introspection, which he disrupted with a low whistle. “Wow. How much did all this run you?”   
  
“Hobbies cost as much as you can afford, Slick.” Judy deflected, wandering to the ledge of the roof. It was high enough for a bunny or fox to lean on, given the size of the average HVAC worker for complexes this large. Nick followed shortly, pausing to run his fingers along the tops of several plants. Judy popped the bale and handed Nick the bottle.

He sniffed warily at the mouth, found the scent acceptable and drank. And wheezed squeakily as he glared at her for the second time tonight. “This stuff can’t be legal. Is it just pure alcohol with a cinnamon stick in it?”

“No, there were probably pieces of apple somewhere along the line, too.” Judy chirped innocently, grabbing the bottle and taking a slug herself. Leaning on her elbows, she placed the bottle between them and gestured with a limp hand. “It’s beautiful out, huh? I mean, I guess the weather’s kind of a dumb topic in Zootopia. Terraforming and all, but I mean…”

Bumping the back of her paw with the bottle to interrupt her, Nick agreed, “I get it, Carrots. Great night, great view. Great company. Chill.” He took another swig, this time prepared for the taste and the high octane burn. Passing it over to her, he noticed in the distance, at the fork of the Mongoose river where Muddy Swamp started to turn to the dry land of The Canopy’s unincorporated area, a smudge on the landscape. 

Whatever it was had to be enormous, to be seen from this distance. Nick hadn’t heard news of any major public works being undertaken recently, but more importantly, whatever the thing was had a silhouette unlike anything the city government was likely to build. It seemed like -- well, like a smudge. A smear. A wedge driving out into the river heedless of its appearance.

“Okay,” he amended, “Great view except for that thing.” Before he had even pointed, Judy was turning to face him.   
  
“Yeah, I was meaning to ask you about that thing. What do you think it is?”   
  
“I think it’s as insulting as a kick in the crotch of that river, since you asked.” Judy spluttered and choked. He took the punch on the arm with grace, and returned a guileless smile at the murderous look.

But, after finishing coughing she admitted, “Points for the departure from your usual style. But I’m not a fan of the delivery. Seriously, it’s like a dozen tanker ships crashed together or something.”

“Trust me, I’d remember hearing about something like that. God, there should have been  _ protests _ for that!” Seeing that Nick had no answers, and knowing how much he hated that, Judy just dropped the subject. True, the thing -- whatever it was -- was an eyesore. But what bothered her was that nobody in her building seemed to notice it. She had asked her neighbors to either side, but none could give an answer. They looked at her like she was talking crazy. Sure, the view was slightly better up here, but it was visible from the windows, too.

“You know it’s called a ‘fork’, right Nick?”   
  
“What is?” The dumb expression, as well as his ignorance, was an act, she could tell.

“The river. Where it splits is a fork.”

“ _ Riiiight _ , agree to disagree, Carrots.”

The smudge was in truth, from this distance, fairly easy to resolve. Jutting into the Mongoose River with several ragged communications towers, it cleanly separated the waterway into two lanes, eating up a third of the river’s width. Like ragged, broken teeth, some kind of arms extended from the structure to either side, where silt from the mountains north of TundraTown collected forming a huge, muddy strand. The monolith terminated in a point, though not much more could be gleaned from that other than that it described a rough, narrow triangle.   
  
In the waning sunset, it was dappled with the suggestion of many more structures built atop it, dragging onto dry land for some distance before the shadow structures fanned out, then angled sharply back to a lone high volume industrial road. For something that was obviously a titanic feat of mammalian engineering, there wasn’t a single light visible from the pair’s vantage. Nick disliked anything getting the drop on him. And here something easily the size of an aircraft carrier had done just that.

Like most districts in the city, save the ones with natural weather and The Canopy itself, nights cooled off quickly in Zootopia. They returned to Judy’s apartment, holding their breath in the gross stairwell. Nick scrubbed at his face with the potpourri until Judy accused him of melodrama, after which there was a brief stop in Judy’s dwelling for Nick to grab his gear. Before he managed to get through the door, Judy hugged him fiercely, then punched him bonelessly on the bicep.   
  
“Don’t let the Hopps magic make you miss your alarm clock, Slick. Up and at ‘em bright and early tomorrow.” Judy admonished playfully as her goodbye.

“Whatever you say,  _ Officer!” _ Nick replied, fluttering his fingers in a wave as he walked backward toward the elevator. “And don’t go chewing on any city-destroying conspiracies without me!”


	2. Dereliction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A preliminary walkthrough of the strange construction fouling up the view of the river leads to many more questions and offers no answers.

There was obviously something going on with the wreckage in The Rainforest. The sight of it kept jumping to mind at the slightest provocation, and while it looked normal enough from a distance, every bone in Nick's body sang with curious frustration. However, the reality of a city still troubled by social unrest left very little free time for two beat cops to go snooping around.

This tension was not subtle. Judy had noticed her partner's irritability and lack of focus over the past few days. As much as she wanted to pick his brain about it, they had both been too swamped with work for any kind of serious conversation. The latest upsurge in anti-predator and sheep supremacist gang activity was hardly a cheery subject. Maybe it was just work stress?

Neither of them wanted to have the conversation while on the job, let alone recorded on mic and camera as they were when Judy huffed, "Listen Wilde, just take a mental health day if you can't even watch your side of the road."

Visibly irritated, though not entirely directed at Judy, Nick responded tersely, "Is that really where we're at? That’s the first thing you've got to say to me after 'good morning'?"

"You've been quiet all week. I know the job sucks right now, but it won't go by any quicker if you keep brooding."

"It's not the job! Okay, I mean it's a little bit about the job. Why are we the ones mopping up so many hoofers twice _my_ size? There oughta be a law!" It only took a moment to fall back into character.

Judy snickered almost automatically, "A law? _For_ _criminals to follow?_ " Nick rolled his eyes, but sat up straighter as Judy continued, not distracted by his attempt at misdirection. "Seriously, this isn't like you. What's up?"

Pinching the bridge of his muzzle he said, "You know we have to check out that place in the river."

"Oh. Yeah. But at least it's not going anywhere!" The look he shot her could kill. "Okay, okay. It's bothering you, I get it. Are you still free Friday? No surprises from the higher ups?"

"So far so good. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'll be glad to spend my day off at a derelict construction site." Having said it out loud, he felt much more at ease. The dumb bunny could pull screws with her bare paws which, while incredibly annoying, was maybe a good thing sometimes.

"You know there's not going to be much to see out there. You want to get lunch or something before?" In true carrot and stick fashion, food was a go-to reward for making him speak his mind. With a quip about who was paying, Nick perked up enough to make the rest of the work week bearable.

However, after they had their meal at some trendy place near Judy's, his mood soured a bit. It turns out he really _didn't_ want to spend his day off at some derelict construction site. Even so, Hopps pulled him along when he started to drag his hindpaws.

The approach from the nearest ferry station was only a mile or so, before the pedestrian paths scaled for every size class huddled between the divided highway. The masonry was surprisingly aesthetic given the overall appearance from a distance. On- and off-ramps disappeared below surface level.

After the highway dwindled down to a broad avenue, the extent of the effort spent here suddenly became more apparent. Standing at all four corners of each intersection down the main street were megafauna-scale residences and storefronts. Shrinking in size further down the arterial roads were the same variety of space for mammals of every size. The whole place was modelled like some Main Street ideal with colorful building facades and formerly beautiful landscaping.

The artificial portion of the structure nearer the water showed much heavier industry. There were ports dredged deep enough for commercial traffic, butted up against container yards and very serious-looking corrugated structures. At the very point of the triangular construction, rusted conveyors -- long since out of use -- lapped into the sandy muddy mess of detritus collecting from upriver. They terminated at some unknown point inside the megastructure.

“Um… I bet the guys at the bank were pretty steamed when this place went under, huh Fluff?” Though he wanted to regain the jovial atmosphere which had characterised most of the afternoon, his tone made it clear how unsettled he was.

“You really haven’t heard anything about this? Mammals should be living here! This is practically a District!” Punctuating her statement she kicked a pebble. Judy’s discomfort often came out a little more aggressively.

Shrugging, Nick peered down at the muck in the river. “Guess we can poke around; see if somebody forgot to pay the advertising bill?” He turned back for the heart of the district, where the comms towers stood watch over municipal buildings. There was something tremendously eerie about the absence of mammals. Nick had never been all that far from the constant din of life a city represented, and Judy herself had acclimated thoroughly.

There was a sense of trespass associated with this place. As if by simply setting paw on its back, they had affronted some great beast. That made their trek back to the administrative segment far from the playful jaunt the rest of their day had been. In fact, even in the hot, humid stillness, Nick had to fight the urge to raise his hackles.

The unlocked building, which was nominally a public records office, had been scoured of any paperwork that referred to the abandonment of the construction on which it resided. However, some information was available. There was an entire city underground, housed inside this island. It was developed in layers, with a huge amount of cutting edge workplaces designed to deal with the ever-present pollution flowing down the Mongoose from three entire biomes. They were standing -- literally -- on the back of the biggest recycling, reclamation and environmental engineering plant on the globe.

This did nothing but raise even further questions. Zootopia loved little _more_ than toying with nature, and while the climate walls were more flashy, this would have obviously been a crown jewel in the already wealthy vault of Zootopian terraforming. Not to mention the vast sums spent to build such a facility, the unused living space, and the wealth it would indirectly create in operation. Nick was at least glad Judy had waited to come here with him. He probably would have been angry if she had found another huge conspiracy and not included him.

By the time they had pored through the documents inside it was getting late. Dusk was falling when Judy reminded Nick she couldn’t see in the dark. Not to mention what was supposed to be a quick little urban exploration adventure had chewed up their entire evening. Nick escorted Judy, who was suddenly holding his arm, back up the road from the ghost town to the ferry where they would likely part ways, unless the bunny had some other plan. He was suddenly feeling like poor company himself.

Except, just when he thought he was being glum over nothing, suddenly the streetlights in each of those tunneling on- and off-ramps snapped to life in an instant. But that was insane, because there was no way on earth they would have missed the light pollution on this otherwise black isle.

“Nick. The lights came on.” Judy said flatly. But somehow the matter-of-factness made that simple statement all the worse. “Did you read anything about the power? Is this place seriously still running on the regular grid?” And after a brief pause, much more sternly Judy demanded, “ _What the hell is going on?”_

“Beats me, Carrots, but I’d like to leave. Right now.” It only took fifteen minutes to reach their destination but even so the pair were hesitant to separate. Nonetheless, Judy was heading straight across a bridge and Nick was heading far downriver. So maybe a little more clingy than usual they parted ways at the docks. As ever, Nick was self-conscious.

Returning to her apartment, certain that both mammals knew her “‘see in the dark’” line was hooey, Judy decided it would probably be best to start assembling some notes on their investigation. The problem was, there wasn’t much to say. Regardless, she typed up a timeline and turned to her trusty whiteboard. First she drew a rough field map of the place, not really sure what it would accomplish when she could simply find a copy of actual maps next time they went there. Even so, the rabbit began compiling her first-glance preliminary ideas.The day had been fairly long, and they had covered quite a bit of ground earlier today. Judy was tired, but too keyed up to do anything but get to work. Sleep was for the weak.

Finding himself wandering aimlessly, Nick griped inwardly, upset at the lack of information or any clear goals. _Clever, huh? Well I don't think whatever little game this is is so clever. Carrots and I will have that place licked in no time flat. Obviously. Lionheart took us two days. Once we got the clue we bagged Bellwether in like four hours. Easy-peasy._ Though he was soothed, his little pep talk failed to hype him up for the coming unpleasantness. Even after spending the day with Judy, Nick uncharacteristically still craved companionship. Sending Finnick a text asking to hang out and having it quickly answered, Nick set out for the more lively parts of town.

Dragging his tail into the designated and suitably dive bar, Nick sat down next to his former partner, greeting him briefly. “Met up with Hopps today….” The larger fox said casually.  
  
“Yeah. Heard about that. Investigating some crap out in the Mongoose? Psh, since when do you go to the RD?” Finnick responded casually, although his seemingly preternatural knowledge shook Nick deeply.   
  
“Where on _God’s green earth_ did you hear about that?” Nick snapped, obviously at the end of his nerves.

“Rabbit asked me if I knew anything about it. Told her I’m a Sandyman myself, and don’t go out that way unless I have to.” Shrugging at his ex-partner’s antics and sipping his beer, he continued, just to head the other mammal off. “She came and apologized for rolling up on my doorstep looking for you. I think she got bored while you were in the clink. We hang out sometimes.” Nick hated when the fennec called the ZPA ‘the clink’.

“ _You._ and **Hopps** . Hang out?”   
  
Growing quickly impatient, the smaller mammal snarled, “Yeah. Usually when your stupid tail is off mopin’ or otherwise unavailable. Not that I mind playin’ backup, but you gotta get your shit together.”

"What exactly do I need to 'get together,' Big Guy?" Nick snapped back.

"Your hot and cold crap! 'Oh, _Carrots_ is my best friend but I spend huge periods of time keeping her at arm's length because I'm _saaaadddd_!’" The smaller mammal's mimicry was shockingly good.

"Look dude, whatever you got stuck in your head isn't worth messing things up with the Rabbit. Fuck it, shouldn't you be on top of the world right now? Gone straight -- worst came'a that's some back taxes -- got a girl who can't get enough of you, and a whole posse of dudes who suck at cards always inviting you to poker night. Like… where's the fuckup?"

"It's no big deal, everybody knows I'm a busy mammal. And are you seriously going to jump on that stupid Wilde/Hopps thing?" Nick sagged dramatically to the bartop, ordering a drink by way of lifting an arm.

Because he was doing this, he missed the look of disgust smeared across Finnick's expression as he subvocalized. "Yeah, you're so busy you remembered your good pal Finnick just to grill him about a fucking garbage plant." He hoped Nick heard. "Whatever, so you gonna start buying my drinks for telling you uncomfortable truths, or you gonna ask how _my_ day was?"

Sufficiently browbeaten, Nick responded brightly, though whatever emotion he felt was far from happy. "So, how has The Angriest TV Antenna been since, uh… a month… ago?" Brightness turning to falsetto near the end.

"Been good. Back workin' days in a garage ain't my favorite gig, but my van hasn't sounded this good since I got it. Food on the table, that sorta thing. Lotta preds where I work, so me & the boys go out to the dunes now & then, hunt some scorpion, have a party. Oughta come. I'll hit you up."

"Finnick, you know I don't eat bugs."

"So come get drunk. Bring Judy and chill out, stargaze or somethin' sappy. Once you get the speargun outta her hands, that is." He punctuated his statement with a shrill cackle.

"Well, that _does_ sound like her…." Nick agreed, just ignoring the stargazing bit. The two foxes continued to chat for a while, turning to lighter topics and finding lighter spirits. However, Nick still insisted on wrapping up early just in case he was called in to work. Which in truth rarely happened, but it was a handy backdoor to keep.

++

_Things had been easier, but they had been harder too. Hell, sometimes it seemed like life was the continuous acceptance of compromise. Like a polite death by committee. And, well, that was fine. The sun was warm, the shop smelled like gorgeous resins of wood from all across the globe. And if Jacob Serenevitch cared about anything on this earth, it was the scent and sensation of wood._

_This place had been a gamble, honestly. This late in life, starting an artisan furniture shop for Micros was not something respectable elephants did. But he had been dying sitting at a desk all day making spreadsheets, so damn the gossip and damn the consequences. He liked making furniture, and he didn’t much care to strain his back. Tiny money spent just the same as giant money, and that was that._

_However life shook out, it shook out. He was owed a delivery of nice little teak splinters from a -- ha! --_ hatchet job _up near the canopy. Ethically sourced and all that, but despite the absence of digits and being probably a thousand times the size of his favorite clientele, the elephant had a knack. Was he carving the kneecap swirls of sacred history into the boles of trees he could barely heft? No, but the understanding of breadth and depth of emotion had finally reached the pachyderm one day, and scale and culture had ceased to matter. If his artistry could make anyone happy so too would he find fulfillment. Jacob had figured himself out, at the ripe old age of 58._

_Like any other third Saturday of the month, a bus full of bright-eyed vagabonds piled out onto Sweetwater Strand. Raccoons, otters, coypu, foxes. Pretty much any bottom-feeder was here for a gimme job to “get on their hindpaws”. Then again, Sweetwater_ had _been good to everybody so far. He had been getting better about not thinking such hurtful thoughts lately. Being surrounded by those “bottom feeders” made it hard to ignore the good and bad that existed in all mammals. Still. They were being paid to separate trash._

_One mammal in particular stepping off that bus looked impossibly self-satisfied. As though dredging garbage out of the river were some high honor. And, despite his dislike for such opportunists and scavengers, that one mammal may have been truly happy. But then again if there was one thing Sweetwater promised, if not in writing per se, it was the chance for a new life. Maybe the dummy really had something to get away from or to work toward. Nicer to think of the rags-to-riches stories than the hierarchies that existed in some mammals’ heads._ _  
_

_As the group disappeared from the view of his shop window, so too did such idle thoughts. Taking up a miniscule rasp he resumed work hollowing out an arch that would one day be the frame of a bespoke door. Right on schedule a crew of mice and rats arrived with his shipment of wood. Due to the scale, the pachyderm simply picked up the delivery truck and carefully dumped the load of wood into a bin of assorted wood scraps. He signed off on the delivery with his trunk and continued his work, unmindful of the world passing him by, or the purring thrum of industry constantly beneath his feet. If life was a polite death by committee, well that was just fine. He could make a million concessions and compromises, as long as the sound of steel on wood could fill his ears, the scent of exotic timber could fill his trunk, and the smiles of his customers could grace his eyes, then so be it. Death by committee, or death by spreadsheet? Hardly a choice at all._   
  


**Author's Note:**

> So this is the first chapter of The Stranded Sweetwater!  
> I've dipped my toes in the Zoot fanfic pool before but never published.  
> I hope you like it, and I hope my formatting is all correct, since I've never used AO3 before.
> 
> Comments, questions, criticism or kudos much appreciated!


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